“Because I am a reticent fellow,” replied Mr. Darcy. “And because it is difficult to set aside the practice of several years.”
Mr. Darcy offered a warm smile, and Elizabeth was not at all unaffected by it. “In a way, I have Miss Bingley to thank, though she would not appreciate the sentiment. Had she not behaved the way she did, I might not have had the pleasure of dancing the first with you.”
“For what purpose, Mr. Darcy?”
“The usual purpose, Miss Elizabeth.”
The gentleman was entirely serious; of that Elizabeth was certain. That did not prevent her from wondering at the change in him. She had not been unaware of his growing interest, of course, but it was still difficult to reconcile the difference between the man dancing with her and the one who had stood across from her at Mr. Bingley’s ball. The notion of his interest, though novel, was not repulsive, though she did not yet know what to think.
“Then let us set that to the side for the moment,” replied Elizabeth. “I judge it premature for any such discussion.”
“Agreed,” replied the gentleman, “though I would not have you misunderstand my interest.”
Elizabeth nodded, but she pushed the subject away in favor of another. “I cannot but suppose that your application will provoke Miss Bingley’s undying enmity for me.”
“If it did not already exist, it might concern me.”
Curious, Elizabeth said: “What do you mean? Miss Bingley and I have never shared warm relations, but I do not think it was as bad as it will be now.”
“Perhaps you are correct,” said the gentleman.
He paused while the steps took them away from each other, but when they came together again, he continued. “Miss Bingley has considered you a rival from almost the beginning of our acquaintance.”
“That is most curious, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, feeling the mirth directed toward a woman deserving of it well up in her breast. “I had not known that Miss Bingley was so insecure—to own the truth, I thought her confident in her ultimate success.”
“You are not incorrect,” agreed Mr. Darcy. “Let us say that she learned my opinion of you was far warmer than she thought, and she spent the rest of our stay at Netherfield trying to induce me to recant.”
Though afire with curiosity, Elizabeth pushed it aside—she expected that at some time or another she could induce him to be explicit.
“This is all so sudden, Mr. Darcy. When you came to Meryton last year, you were not in the best humor. That you had any interest in me was a possibility I had not considered.”
“That is because of the reticence of which I have spoken,” replied Mr. Darcy.
The man’s expression altered, shocking Elizabeth when she saw his tender regard. “There are some mitigating reasons for my behavior, Miss Elizabeth, though I shall not claim innocence. Let me state here and now that I feel more for you than I ever have for any other woman. I am not yet ready to promise anything, but if you are willing, I wish to know you better with a potential match in mind.”
“I do not know what to say, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth.
“Say that you are willing to proceed with that understanding, Miss Elizabeth. That is all I can ask.”
“Then there is nothing else to say,” said Elizabeth.
“Thank you.”
It was a heartfelt gesture, and Elizabeth felt it keenly. Though she did not think it was yet prudent to confess it, a part of her could not help the curiosity she now felt, the part of her intrigued with the notion of knowing him better.
MISS ELIZABETH WAShis heart’s desire—Darcy was not far from that conclusion. Having never been in love he could not say for certain the exact nature of his regard for her, but he was becoming more convinced by the moment that she was what he needed to make his life complete. That, of course, was why the end of the dance and Miss Bingley’s intrusion on his reflections was so unwelcome.
Though he could not suppose that avoiding her would be a simple matter, even Darcy could not but salute her for the speed at which she accosted him again. Miss Elizabeth, perhaps by design or mere chance, evaded the woman altogether, as a man of the neighborhood asked her for her next sets, removing her from the radius of Miss Bingley’s spleen. That Darcy had no similar escape was a matter he deplored, even while he looked for an escape.
“How excellent a gentleman you are!” exclaimed Miss Bingley the moment Darcy left the dance floor.
Miss Bingley’s eyes were wild, her voice shrill and her hand gestures jerky. Darcy supposed she was seeing the end of her machinations, and though he did not pity her, the end of a desperate longing such as she had harbored must be bitter, indeed.
“For a gentleman of your stature to pay such attention to a woman such as Miss Elizabeth is quite beyond what anyone could expect of you.”
“Not at all, Miss Bingley,” replied Darcy, already jealous of the man with whom Miss Elizabeth was speaking. “It is an assembly, is it not? One dances at assemblies.”
“You need not dissemble to me, Mr. Darcy, for I understand your feelings on the subject.”
